Chapter 5 - The Trap at the Delivery Room
The night of Clara's delivery arrived. The hospital's private maternity wing had been completely locked down. Every doctor, nurse, and orderly entering the floor had to pass through three biometric security checkpoints.
Julian stood in the scrub room, putting on a sterile gown to accompany Clara into the operating room. Through the window, he could see Clara being prepped by the medical team. She looked nervous but determined.
"Everything is set, Julian," Dr. Evans said, walking in to wash his hands. "We’ll have your son out in under twenty minutes. You’re going to be a father."
Julian nodded, trying to shake off the persistent feeling of dread that had been clinging to him all evening. "Thank you, doctor. I trust you."
As the operation began, Julian held Clara’s uninjured hand. She squeezed his fingers tightly as the monitors hummed.
"I'm scared, Julian," she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Don't be," Julian said, kissing her forehead. "I'm right here. In just a few minutes, we’re going to hold our son."
Suddenly, the lights in the operating room flickered.
Then, the rhythmic hum of the life support machines died as the entire hospital went pitch black.
An eerie red emergency light flickered on, casting long, bloody shadows across the room. The backup generators, which should have kicked in within three seconds, remained completely silent.
"What’s happening?" Dr. Evans called out, his voice laced with sudden panic. "We’re in the middle of a procedure! We need power now!"
"The backup generator lines have been cut, sir!" a nurse cried out from the hallway. "And the electronic locks on the maternity ward doors have failed! They’re all open!"
Before Julian could move, the heavy double doors of the operating room were kicked open.
Three men in dark tactical gear stepped inside, their faces covered in black masks. Leading them was an older man with silver hair and a scarred, twisted face.
Victor Vance.
"Hello, nephew," Victor sneered, raising a silenced pistol and pointing it directly at Julian’s chest. "I told you a commoner’s child would never carry the Vance name. Hand over the mother, and perhaps I’ll let you live to see me run your company into the dirt."
Clara gasped, trying to sit up, but the anesthesia made her limbs heavy and useless. "Julian..."
Julian didn't flinch. He slowly stepped in front of Clara’s operating table, shielding her body entirely with his own.
"You always were a coward, Victor," Julian said, his voice deadly quiet, echoing in the dark, red-lit room. "Striking when people are at their weakest. But you forgot one thing."
Victor laughed, raising the gun to align with Julian's forehead. "And what is that, boy?"
"I don't make the same mistake twice."
Julian reached into his pocket and pressed a small, tactical button on his watch.
Instantly, the ceiling panels of the operating room shattered.
Four heavily armed security operators from Julian’s elite private force rappelled down on high-speed cables. Before Victor’s men could even raise their weapons, a barrage of non-lethal flashbangs exploded, filling the room with a blinding white light and a deafening roar.
Julian tackled Victor to the ground, slamming his hand against the tile floor until the pistol clattered away. With a swift, powerful punch, Julian knocked his uncle unconscious, pinning him to the ground just as the primary power grid suddenly surged back to life, flooding the room with bright, clean light.
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Mark and his men rushed into the room, quickly securing the remaining intruders.
"Get them out of here," Julian ordered, his chest heaving as he stood up, his suit covered in dust. He turned back to the medical team, who were staring at him in absolute shock. "Dr. Evans. Please. Finish the delivery."
